Kwibuka - Delalorm Sesi Semabia

You were my brother

When the rains fell fast,

Racing down for their share of the scavenge

Which the river had reddened itself with.

The land hugged corpses, content

To bite the bones off dry flesh

Breezes changed cologne each time they passed over.

We stood together, silent.

You were my brother.

Did it matter if I was Tutsi?

What is the spelling of Hutu; You too?

We dug a live man out of a mass grave.

Another returned seeking the blood of the best friend who killed his family.

Women were served rape for breakfast.

Twelve baskets full left over

Were dished to the babies after them.

Were you my brother?

Today, the sun rises on our land

Watered before with the blood of our brothers

We hold hands together, daring tomorrow, never again.

If they come again, tooting Tutsi and hooting Hutu,

Demanding my blood from your hands,

Just look upon this spectacle

Remember us, the scars who survived that sore

And remember this question I ask you now;

Will you be my brother?

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Delalorm Sesi Semabia (20th century) Ghana

Source: African Soulja

Kwibuka is Kinyarwandan and means ‘Remember’.